


you and me, plus one equals three

by Cleverbreawisekylan



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, cordelia and misty being the moms they deserve to be, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleverbreawisekylan/pseuds/Cleverbreawisekylan
Summary: Cordelia has always hated Mother's Day, until one day, she doesn't.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	you and me, plus one equals three

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little bit of fluff that we all need because these two would be amazing parents and I need that in my life

Cordelia has always hated  Mother's Day . 

The first memory she has of the holiday is nervously holding onto a hand-crafted card and carefully picked flowers under the scrutiny of Fiona’s dark eyes. She shifts and twists on the spot, clutching the items so hard that she thinks she might break them. 

Fiona sighs, bored, and holds out an expectant hand. “Give them here then,” she grumbles. 

Cordelia does, watching on baited breath to see the reaction. A hand reaches up to idly play with the end of her braid. “D - do you like them?” She questions, a tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. 

Her mother drops both onto the kitchen counter without so much as a second glance. “They’re great.” Her disinterest is like a stab to the heart, one that Cordelia struggles to hide. 

As Fiona starts, she finds herself left in her mother’s wake. There seems to be so much that she has to do, so many plans, very little of which seem to involve her daughter. And this leaves Cordelia stood numbly in the middle of the room, wondering why she feels so empty. She blinks, twisting her neck up to her mother who regards her with annoyance. “Huh?” 

“Hurry up! We need to get going if I’m going to make brunch.”

Another stab, right between her ribs. 

She lowers her head, and this time Fiona does acknowledge it. She sighs, nothing short of exasperation. “ _ What  _ is it?” 

Startling under tense words, she shrinks. But pushes the words out nevertheless. “I love you,” she mumbles.

“For Christ’s sake, that’s it?” 

“I  -”

An unceremonious shove follows. “Come on, get your shoes on.” And with that, any special moment she thought came with  Mother's Day is thrown carelessly from the window, hitting the floor with a deafening  _ splat _ . She eyes the small bouquet staring back from the counter, already beginning to wilt before her very eyes, and she finds herself frowning in understanding. 

Believe it or not, that’s one of her fonder memories of Mother's Day, when Fiona had actually been  _ present _ . And sober. Or, sober enough for Cordelia not to notice the smell of  liquor lingering on her breath, or bloodshot eyes. 

By the time she arrives at the Academy, any childish hope has been kicked out of her, and she settles with only sending a generic card. She ignores the other girls who have plans and extravagant gifts and words of unconditional love; she instead writes a simple message along the pink insert paper. It’s an imitation of what she’s seen, of loving daughters and doting mothers. It feels wrong, but she writes it anyway in pretty cursive and asks Myrtle to mail it for her. The older woman takes the envelopes with a pitying smile and a small nod. 

Cordelia doesn’t get a reply. Though she expects as much, it still stings like scolding water on her heart. 

Not long after that, she starts calling Fiona by her name and not by “mother”. It’s strangely cathartic, she realizes with a stunted smile. 

Eventually, the cards stop mailing out and she embraces the detachment with open arms. It’s easier to forget about it than to deal with the onslaught of emotions that it brings. 

Fiona’s absence helps, until it ends and Cordelia has to face the estranged relationship they share. She returns with the strength of a tornado, bulldozing herself into Cordelia’s life once again with the intent of ruining her hard work, she’s sure. Just like how she cast away any attempt of her  daughter’s to show affection. It fills her with ire, teeth clenching and neck straining every moment she spends with her. 

She really hates that woman, and by  extension , the holiday that commands her celebration.

And she’s all too happy to put a rest to it, just like she makes peace with Fiona’s death. It’s easy and simple, and becomes her life. 

Until it isn’t so easy to forget about 

…

She feels hands on her face before anything else, small and chubby. The sound of babble is overwhelmed by Misty’s soft giggles, then her voice, delicate and sweet, in the early morning. “Come here – don't wake her up yet.” 

There is the rustle of sheets. Cordelia feels a weight lifted from her side, followed by something akin to a frustrated squirm. She blinks her eyes open at this, the only thing in her sight being blonde curls and pale skin. Misty is sat impossibly close, arms wrapped tightly around the fussy baby and cooing her gently. 

Cordelia feels her heart swoon at the sight, smiling against the pillows. “Hmm, good morning.” She stretches out, knees knocking against Misty’s and skin revelling in the cooler parts of the bed. 

Turning, Misty gasps excitedly, more for the benefit of the  ten month old in her arms, and bounces her once. “Look who’s up!” She catches Cordelia’s eyes, slightly apologetic, especially when said gaze trails over to the clock to their left. 

_ 6.03am _

She shrugs away any worries. In all honesty, it’s the most sleep she’s had in a long while and, as she continues to regard Misty, she thinks the girl has had it worse than her. Bags hang heavy under her eyes, dark and hollow, but she wears the most loving of smiles. “How long have you been up?” She asks knowingly, a hand reaches out to cup Misty’s chin, migrating to run through thick tresses of curls. 

Misty leans into the fond touch, sighing softly. “A couple hours.”

“Thought we were taking turns?” Her brow raises, sky high, not accusing – more apologetic. 

“How could I wake you when you look so pretty  sleepin ?” 

Even after all the time they've been together, she finds a blush creeping onto her lips at the compliment. As if on impulse, she leans forward and pulls Misty to meet in the middle. Their mouths catch in a searing kiss, delicate yet greedy at the same time. Cordelia is all but ready to lose herself in the sweet taste of those kisses when an interruption presents itself. 

The same tiny hands that had woken her up now reach up between her and Misty, demanding attention. She flutters her eyes open, breathing in the sight of Autumn’s chocolate brown eyes.  _ Just like hers _ . “Sorry, sorry,” she laughs, “was I ignoring you?” 

She reaches out, chuckling as Autumn practically falls into her embrace, all legs and arms that remind her that she’s Misty’s too. That thought brings a light flutter to her insides, heart coming to a steady beat as though all is right in the world. Maybe it is. She doesn’t remember a time when she’s ever been happier. With Misty lay serenely besides her, wrapped in white and hair flowing like a golden waterfall, and Autumn nestled in her arms safely, she thinks this may be a waking dream. 

But it feels real, tactile. Misty’s soft fingers come to rest on her arm, and she breathes in the sight of her wedding ring gleaming proudly back at her. She looks to her own, grinning. 

Autumn continues to wriggle, scrunching up the material on the corners of her onesie and skewing the smiling faces of frogs that it displays. “I think she’s hungry,” Misty says, leaning her head against Cordelia’s shoulder and yawning into her collarbone. 

She eyes the way Autumn’s face pinches together, eyes crinkling at the corners and skin beginning to darken with a warning hue of red. The tell-tale signs that she’s about to screech the entire building awake, ones that Misty is always too quick to pick up on. It amazes the older blonde, how intuitive she is with their daughter, how there is no hesitation, and it only makes her love her more. Shifting Autumn’s weight in her arms, she settles her quickly against her breast where she latches on quickly and greedy. 

Cordelia chuckles, loving coos bubbling over her lips as fingers stroke wispy curls with tenderness that only a mother could have – the same tenderness that she’s been deprived of her entire life. But not her baby;  _ never _ . Autumn slows, brow relaxing and hands curling into small fists as she nurses. It never fails to make her feel giddy with love, the feeling only intensifying as she turns to speak to Misty, only to find her dozing off against her. 

Her mouth hangs open, the slightest hint of drool there, as she lets airy breaths fill her sleep.  _ She looks exhausted.  _ An arm slinks around Misty’s slender shoulders, pulling her in closer. She blinks briefly, eyes unfocused and lost, as she smacks her lips together. “’m too tired right now, Delia. Maybe later.”

Stifling a laugh, she shakes her head in amusement, though suddenly brims with excitement at the thought of having hot sex with her wife later on . . .  _ if  _ they can get someone to watch Autumn. But with a household of willing babysitters, she really doesn’t think that will be a problem. 

She litters Misty’s hairline with kisses, grinning at the sight of her baby hairs. Then, she turns and does the same to Autumn, finding herself staring down at glistening eyes. Autumn stares, besotted and sleepy, brimming with an admiration that Cordelia doesn’t understand but relishes in. 

She readjusts herself once Autumn stops feeding, awkwardly burping her with one arm as Misty is currently a dead weight under the other. Soft burps tumble out of her mouth, until she’s finished and sits happily in Cordelia’s lap. “You are so pretty,” she breathes, breath stolen from inside her at the sight of tiny, dark eyelashes fluttering back. Autumn smiles, returning with delicate babbling. 

Cordelia continues, spellbound by the infant. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, other than your mom, of course.” She wraps a hand around her small fist, “and you have the smallest fingers, and the teeniest little fingernails.” Tugging her forward, she places kiss after kiss on her hands, emphatically making noises with each one when Autumn giggles at the motion. Cordelia grins, fingers zoning in on her tummy, the most tickling point. Her eyes glisten wickedly and she gives it a small prod, laughing alongside her daughter. “Look at that little tummy!”

Her laughs transform into full on cackles, head thrown back and cheeks growing pink with glee as Cordelia continues her loving assault. She migrates to chubby thighs, and delicate feet, eliciting giggles wherever she goes. Each one fills her heart to a dangerous level where she thinks it  might explode and, quite honestly, she wouldn’t mind.

…

They finally float downstairs, Misty wiping away the sleep from her eyes and Autumn clinging to her side, fingers clasping to the ends of her hair. Zoe is the only one up, sitting with her legs crossed under her as she scrolls through her phone and sips at takeout coffee. 

She beams at the sight of them, not so discreetly tilting her head to the pile of presents on the table, alongside a box of fresh pastries that Misty dives into without so much as an invitation. “What’s this?” She asks, placing Autumn down at her feet; she clings to her legs, then stumbles over to her toys in the corner. 

Zoe smirks, offering a response in the form of a shrug.

Misty appears at her side, so quickly that she briefly thinks she  transmutates there, holding a chocolate croissant. “Look, Delia – your  favorite .” 

She smiles, accepting it from her hold and taking a bite into it more delicately than her wife does. 

“These are  _ so  _ good.” She moans against a cinnamon twist, eyes closing in appreciation. Cordelia watches, growing hot at the sight of her lips darting out to catch the falling flakes and sugar, then she clears her throat and turns to Zoe in further question. 

Taking a swig of her drink, she softly speaks. “The pastries are from me. Everything else is for Mother's Day.” She grins against her cup. “Autumn must have been really busy.” 

Misty is beaming, sweeping up her daughter with a soft squeal and kissing every inch of skin on her face. She holds little reserve about ripping into the presents, unlike Cordelia who stares to them unsurely. She blinks, confused. “You didn’t have to do this.” Her voice grows low, almost reprimanding, and she immediately hates herself for it. 

But then Zoe is unfazed by it, eyeing her with dark irises. She challenges Cordelia in a way that she’s come to expect from one of her right-hand girls, grounding her when she gets carried away with herself. “Wasn’t just me.” 

She tilts her head, expression softening and a smile fighting to make its way onto her lips. Beside her, Misty  _ oohs  _ and  _ ahs _ _ ,  _ fingers deftly opening the gifts with Autumn enveloped neatly between her arms. The infant reaches out too, grasping any and all of the  colorful piles of paper as though that in itself is the gift. Cordelia smiles  serenely ,  a sense of content washing over her. 

Zoe rises, hand finding  hold of Cordelia’s arm and offering a gentle squeeze. “Happy  Mother’s Day ,” she grins, turning to Misty to repeat the sentiment. 

The younger blonde beams back, chin coming to rest on the top of Autumn’s head as she unwraps the latest present, a teddy bear that reads “ _ I love my mommies _ .”

Cordelia watches her leave with a strange warmth settling over her chest and head bowed in modesty. She only blinks back into the room as Misty holds up matching bracelets for them, eyes twinkling prettily against the morning sunlight. She places one on Cordelia without needing to ask then insists that she fix her own. The Supreme does so with teeth tugging at her lips and the hint of pink still stretched across her cheeks. It looks slightly lost against all her rings and other bracelets, but Misty appears happy nonetheless.

She helps her unpack the rest of the gifts, growing deeper with disbelief with each one. “I can’t believe they bought us so much.” 

“We’re really  gonna owe them at Christmas, huh?” Misty says as she chews on a fancy chocolate, allowing Autumn to scrunch on the wrapper. 

She hums her agreement, a hand absently coming to rest on Misty’s thigh. “It’s weird,” she says after a beat. 

Misty pauses, bouncing Autumn slowly and pulling her hands away from pulling on her necklace. “What is?”

“This day,” she says, “I don’t remember the last time I celebrated it.” Her words brim with a wistfulness that she wishes to hide, but Misty, ever so perceptive, catches each syllable of it. 

“You thinking about Fiona?” 

Cordelia shrugs. 

She doesn’t realize she’s turned away until she feels Misty’s lingering presence beside her, lips hovering around her ears. “I love you,” she states, as though those simple words can solve any inner turmoil that Cordelia is experiencing. Maybe they do, because she instantly feels lighter, smiling down at Misty’s form through her peripherals. Those same, kind lips press against her neck, kissing the sensitive skin and earning a mewl from Cordelia. She pulls away, sighing prettily, “and I love our family.” 

_ Our family.  _

She beams then, twisting so she can catch Misty’s lips in another kiss. Hot breath dances along her own in as Misty scatters loving ministrations along her mouth, only pulling apart to rest her forehead against Cordelia’s. 

“I love you too.”

“Hmm.” 

“ _ Both of you _ .” 

She looks to Autumn, a blessing in her life, and wonders how she got so lucky. Then she looks to Misty in much the same way.

…

The day progresses steadily, easily, with the girls seeming to give them some distance for the holiday. Even Madison holds back her usual snipes for once, only letting one or two through at lunch. For that, Cordelia is both impressed and thankful. 

She spends most of the day stopping Autumn from eating anything in her mouth, cleaning up what can only be described as an abomination in her diaper, and swooning over the sight of Misty teaching her how to twirl. Her legs may be wobbly, and walking a fresh concept, but Autumn laughs and grins up at Misty as they spin together. 

Motherhood suits her, she thinks with a full heart.

And she continues to think that as Misty talks and sings to her, then hours later she tenderly bathes her, scooping up bubbles and placing them atop her head. When Cordelia isn’t looking, she throws a handful at her, too, earning a squeal from the Supreme.

“Your mommy is silly,” Cordelia tells Autumn as she reaches forward, gently lathering shampoo into her hair. The smell of strawberries wafts up to her nostrils, sweet and strong. Misty leans into her, arms wrapping around her waist and attaching herself to Cordelia’s side.

Autumn continues to babbles, lips wrapping around  incoherent noises until suddenly, they’re  _ not  _ so incoherent. 

Lips smacking together, she lifts her eyes and throws them both for a curveball. ”Mamamama.” 

She feels Misty’s touch stiffen against her, growing straighter in an instant, while her own eyes bulge. “Did she. . .?”

“Say Mama.” Misty jumps in, words filled with encouragement. Her fingers clutch to the edge of the bath excitedly, eyes glistening in pride. “Say mama, sweetheart.” 

At first Autumn only stares back, maybe even bordering on looking at them as though it was all a figment of their imagination. Just as she’s about to sigh, hope fleeting, her sweet voice carries through again. 

“ _ Mama _ .”

Cordelia gasps quietly, chest aching with pure joy.

“Oh my gosh.” Misty bounces in her seat, bustling with energy. “She spoke, Delia. She said her first word!”

Autumn continues to repeat then word, her gaze on them never faltering. When she lifts up her arms toward the older blonde, a soft  _ mama  _ following, she just about melts on the spot.

“That’s  _ right _ ,” Cordelia praises, “I’m your mama.” As the warmth in her chest rises up her throat, she feels tears poking at the corners of her eyes. Misty kisses them away, just as proud, just as happy, and with tears in her own blue eyes. 

The feeling stays with her even as they finish the bath, as she nurses Autumn one last time before bed, then as she tucks the blankets gently around her sleeping figure. Misty lingers behind her, watching them thoughtfully. When Cordelia turns, she finds herself embraced in strong arms and head nestled in Misty’s neck. She sighs, feeling awfully at home in the warmth of her arms. 

When she peers up, she finds Misty watching Autumn again, then grins. 

“What are you thinking?” Cordelia’s fingers tighten around Misty’s waist, circling the small patch of skin with her thumb. 

Misty smirks, her brows rising suggestively. 

She blushes, playfully smacking Misty’s side. Even so, she pulls her impossibly flush against her body. “Come on, tell me.” 

“I was thinking,” she starts, voice low and gravelly, “that we should have another one.” 

She blinks, surprised, though they quickly melt away. “ _ Now _ ?” 

Her nose scrunches up as she laughs, shaking her head softly. “Not now, but . . . at some point. You did say that we make a great team.” 

Cordelia stares to her with nothing short of admiration. “I did. And I was right.” She closes her eyes as Misty places a gentle kiss to her forehead. “We also made a pretty amazing baby.” Softly biting her lip, she beams hopefully. “I would love to have another one.” The very notion makes her dizzy with glee, reeling delightfully at someone that she could have only dreamed of years ago – the prospect of having more than one kid. Not only that, but sharing the responsibility with the true love of her life. 

“Just one?” Misty teases, a toothy grin filling Cordelia’s vision.

She scoffs, “how many do you want?” 

Misty shrugs then, all nonchalant and lips twitching impishly. “Oh, at least six.” 

Reeling back, she scrutinizes her under narrowed eyes, deciding that she most certainly can’t be serious. Unless she  _ is _ . And, in that moment, Cordelia really can’t tell, especially as her mind scrambles to register Misty’s longing kiss. “Happy Mother’s Day,” she mumbles about her lips. 

Cordelia  echoes the sentiment, ever so gently, relishing in the words. 

Turns out, Cordelia  _ loves  _ Mother’s Day.


End file.
